


Sometimes It's Fun Just to Fuck with Him

by Chianine



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Crack, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-15 23:06:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2246730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chianine/pseuds/Chianine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Glorious Trash Party:</p>
<p>The Winter Soldier thinks he's pregnant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes It's Fun Just to Fuck with Him

**Author's Note:**

> Original Prompt:  
>  _some hydra goon in the throes of passion grunts into the winter soldier's ears how he's gonna knock him up. not possible, of course, but tws understands next to nothing about how the world works and believes it. cue him shielding his belly instead of his head when he fights / when they beat him, fights tooth and nail against being put into the chair (because that can't be good for the child, right?)_  
>  _bonus if pierce finds out but instead of explaining, he fucks with the winter soldier's head some more._
> 
> I hope this works.

Rumlow, standing in the center of the bouncing van and holding himself steady with the horizontal bar above his head, is bored. There's about six of them dispatched for this mission, two regular wetworks operatives led by him, the Soldier, and his two handlers. Everyone is all nerves and tense silence, which he finds amusing because shit, it's not like being really fucking nervous ever kept anybody alive or made a mission go more smoothly. The Soldier is sitting a few feet away with his elbows balanced on his knees and that godforsaken hair draped over his face. Brock gets an idea.

Rollins, who's next to him and staring off into space feels a sharp nudge. Already grinning and giddy, Rumlow points his thumb at the seated asset and gets only a shrug from Rollins since he has no idea what the fuck he's supposed to find so funny.

“Listen to this,” Rumlow whispers and winks, before putting on a stern and stony countenance. “Hey, Soldier -” The asset, along with everyone else in the van, looks over. “I forgot to tell you this before, but they found something back at the lab. In the body scanner.” He shoots another look at Rollins, who still doesn't understand what kind of silly shit Brock is trying to pull. Then he turns back to the Soldier and says it. “You're pregnant, bro. Six weeks by the look of it. Which makes sense what with that serum pumping in your veins. Speeds things up. I know I'm not the only guy that gets busy with you but since I am the only one around here with any decent spunk, you can be fucking certain that baby is mine.” Brock points a convicting finger at the Soldier's belly. 

“You retarded son of a bitch,” Rollins mutters under his breath, and receives another elbow in his side.

“I'm already feeling very paternal,” Rumlow goes on to the wide-eyed asset, “and so I'm telling you this now because I want you to be careful tonight. I don't want anything happening to my baby, understood?” A slow nod from the Soldier has a few snickering beneath their teflon masks but Brock keeps a straight face. “Good. I don't need to tell you how upset I'll be if something happens to him. I've even named him already. It's uh, Popsicle Stick. Popsicle Stick Rumlow.”

Now there were snorts and muffled giggles all around the van. The asset understands that smiles and laughing are human expressions of happiness. He also knows that babies are a cause for celebration. Of course Hydra should be pleased to find that they have finally achieved male pregnancy with their serum injections. So this must have been the reason he was constantly being inseminated. 

Tonight's mission was very important and required his participation, but perhaps they might not send him on any more as the fetus developed. This could mean many changes for the Soldier. Surely he could not go into cryostasis or receive mental wipes due to the resulting bodily trauma. He would need to eat more, too. He imagined his belly growing as the child inside of him did, and even thought he felt a tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach as he sat there in the van. Was that the baby kicking? Would his breasts swell with milk when the time came? He imagined breast-feeding and how it would feel. Obviously the baby would need the nourishment that only his body could provide, so that even after the birth (which would certainly be by done by caesarian, or at least he hoped it would be) he would remain out of cryostasis until the child could eat other foods. He imagined holding him, seeing his own features on him, smelling him and watching him sleep. The baby would be Hydra's, but it would be his, too. Something for him to love and nurture, something warm and tender like he had never known.

The doors to the back of the van fly open when they arrive at their intended destination and the team descends on the facility, guns blazing. Before heading off to retrieve the intel they had been sent to destroy, Rumlow gives the Soldier's ass a good squeeze. “Don't forget about Popsicle Stick,” he whispers, and gets a firm nod in reply.

Rumlow can hear screams and gunshots throughout the building as he rifles through paperwork upstairs. When he finds the right documents he sets the pile in the middle of the room and soaks it in gasoline before dropping a lit match. The fire alarm starts wailing as he takes the stairs to the bottom level where the rest of the team is still engaged in gun battle. From his vantage point he could see the shooter and picks him off with his weapon. That was the last of them.

Rumlow saunters over to the team with a cocky grin. “Hey, how many assholes does it take to secure one floor? And you,” he turns to the Soldier's blood-smeared face, “what the shit is your major malfunction? You should have handled this and had everyone back in the van by the time I was done.”

“Fuck you, Rumlow,” another agent whines, “this motherfucker been so worried about Popsicle Stick the rest of us were left to fend for ourselves. That shit ain't funny, man.”

But Brock thinks it's hilarious. “Suck it up, gentlemen. We're alive and the mission is complete. Now let's get the fuck outta here before we all burn to death.”

As they were getting into the van Rumlow grabs the asset by the back of the neck. “You take any hits to the gut, Soldier?” The asset shakes his head. “Good,” Rumlow says, smiling and clapping him on the back, “good job, Mommy.”

 

 

“Mission Report.” Pierce stands in front of the asset with his hands in his pockets, trying not to yawn. Even for these dead-of-night assignments with the Soldier, Pierce is sure to be at the base when the team returns to see that the asset is repaired, prepped and put back into cryo properly. The one time he left it to the lab techs there were no lab techs left alive the next morning.

“Completed. No personal damage. Fetus unharmed.”

“What?” Pierce honestly believes he hasn't heard him right. Maybe he's more tired than he realizes. 

Standing behind him, Rumlow speaks up. “The mission was successful, sir. The asset took no damage whatsoever.”

“Okay.” Pierce shuts his eyes and tries forget about whatever nonsense the Soldier had mentioned about a fetus. The man's mind is probably breaking. Not surprising, considering the ridiculous way he'd been cared for by the idiots in charge before his time. A real waste. The asset would probably have to be decommissioned within the next couple of years. “Fine. Take him upstairs and get him prepped for cryo.”

“No!” The Soldier cries out in a desperate tone no one's ever heard from him before.

“What do you mean, _no_?” Pierce pinches his features in disgust.

Behind him, Rollins slowly turned to Rumlow and gave him a look that said _you're about to get your stupid ass handed to you._

“The child.” The Soldier's lips tremble as he crosses the mechanical arm protectively over his belly. “He won't survive cryostasis.”

“What the _fuck_ are you talking about?” Pierce turns to the agents behind him. “Does somebody want to tell me what the fuck this lunatic bullshit is all about?”

Rumlow clears his throat, “Umm...”

“My baby, Popsicle Stick,” the Soldier, said, looking at Brock. “Mine and Agent Rumlow's.”

For several seconds Pierce turns his eyes back and forth between Rumlow and the asset, gathering what kind of farce he was dealing with. Then he faced the asset and took a deep breath. “I understand your concern, and I'm happy to see that you're developing such a strong maternal instinct. But I can assure you, your child can just as easily endure cryostasis as you can. In fact, the best thing for you and Popsicle Stick is some good rest. When you come to term, we'll bring you out again and set up a nice nursery right there in the lab. Okay?”

The Soldier didn't exactly appear to be buying it, but when Pierce stepped forward and started guiding him away with his hand, the asset didn't resist. When they passed Rumlow, Pierce pointed at him, “You stay right here. When I'm done with him, you and I are going to have a _talk_.”

After Pierce and the Soldier disappeared behind the elevator doors, Rollins laughed and turned to Rumlow. “Now _that_ shit was funny.”


End file.
